


A Fire of Devotion

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Digestivo, Post-Time Skip, Prison, The Great Red Dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Goodbye, Hannibal,” Will said, just like he said the first time, just like he said every time. “Thanks for your help.”<br/><br/>“Anytime, Will, and I mean that,” Hannibal answered. Will suddenly, fervently, wished for an end. Hannibal wished for a beginning. Neither of them would receive it. “Anytime.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fire of Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> My take on what might come to pass after the time skip.
> 
> Title taken from ["What Kind Of Man"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgeKHTcufLY) by Florence + The Machine.

Will inhaled. He forced his footsteps to be even in the long, unending hallway. He stared down at his dark shoes on the white tile, counting the split seconds between each fall of his foot. His pockets were empty, his watch gone, his glasses gone; anything extra he had been carrying, anything unnecessary, was taken, and it left him feeling weightless. He felt out-of-body, floating down the hallway like a spirit.

He opened the door at the end of the hall. A security guard nodded to him, then pressed his palm to the DNA lock on the door. Will took off his shoes, passed through the metal detector, and continued into the room. He ignored Hannibal at first, taking his time slipping his shoes back on and tying them perfectly. He took the plastic glasses the guards had taken to holding onto for him and placed them on his nose, straightening the temples.

“Molly’s in the car, so I don’t want to take too long,” Will mentioned, playing at paying no attention to his surroundings. Hannibal sat at the single, long table, simply watching Will, simply waiting. When Will finally straightened up and looked at him, Hannibal smiled.

“Remember not to provoke the prisoner, Mr. Graham,” Hannibal reminded him. Will glanced down at the chair situated opposite Hannibal for a moment before taking a seat in it. “The last thing we want is for the dangerous prisoner to attack you, were you to overstep.”

“We both know you won’t today.”

“Exactly like how we both know you could not care less that Molly is waiting for you,” Hannibal countered. Will let Hannibal lean towards him over the table until the only things separating the two of them were the chains threaded through the table locked around Hannibal’s wrists, holding him back. Will did not reply. “Your silence condemns you.”

“Your words condemn _you,_ Dr. Lecter,” Will replied. He folded his hands on the tabletop, and Hannibal mimicked him, the two of them staring at each other across the plastic table.

“You have a child,” Hannibal stated, not asked. Will nodded.

“A son,” Will replied. Hannibal watched him in silence. Will stared right back.

“Will you not tell me his name?” Hannibal asked, and Will shook his head.

“I’d rather not.” Will glanced at Hannibal’s hands, bound with chains. “You could break those.”

“I’d rather not.” Hannibal tugged at the chains experimentally, for show. “I am complacent and my good behavior is quite possibly a sign of rehabilitation.”

“You’ll never be rehabilitated.” Will leaned forwards until their faces were centimeters from one another. Hannibal inhaled, and Will wondered, fleetingly, what he could smell on his skin. Sunlight he had not seen in years, or grass he has not touched since his surrender, or maybe the mingled scent of dogs and baby powder. “You’re going to die in here.”

“I will not,” Hannibal disagreed, “and you know that I will not.”

Will’s eyes flickered to the door, then back to Hannibal. He leaned in closer, until his mouth was at the shel of Hannibal’s ear, then tilted his face down. He shut his eyes. “I know you won’t. I know.”

Hannibal bowed his own head, their temples scraping together as he moved. Plastic shifted slightly as he made to raise his hands, then remembered himself. Will cupped the back of Hannibal’s head in his palm and turned his face towards him, pressing his forehead to Hannibal’s temple and exhaling slowly. Hannibal turned his head, slowly, slowly, careful not to scare Will away; if he was not scared away by now, though, would he ever be? Will let Hannibal taste him, let him take his lip into his mouth and bite at him until he was raw and red, let him dive into his mouth with his tongue until Will absolutely had to breathe.

“Will you come back?” Hannibal asked, as he did every time.

“No,” Will answered, as he did every time. Hannibal leaned in again, and Will drew back before exhaling sharply and giving himself over. Hannibal absorbed him, devoured him, took him in and spit him back out again, half-formed but still more than he was when he entered.

When the light over the door finally lit up, Will extracted himself, standing from the table and straightening his shirt. Hannibal drank him in, the vision of him under the horrible fluorescent lights. Hannibal was starved.

“Hannibal,” Will murmured.

“Why did you come?” Hannibal asked. Will glanced at the door, then back at Hannibal’s hands, not quite making eye contact with him. Hannibal cleared his throat, and Will’s eyes shot to his, a Pavlovian response to his master.

“There’s a killer,” Will told him. “We’ve been calling him the Tooth Fairy.”

“Tell me what you know,” Hannibal said, and Will’s eyes flickered towards the door. The light went off again, and Will took his seat once more. He ignored Hannibal’s eyes as he spoke, studying his face instead, recounting case details and crime records and visions, imagines, designs he has created in the absence of a killer. Hannibal paid him attention and granted him silence as he did so.

When the conversation was over, Hannibal having offered as much help as he could to be helpful, but still keep Will coming back to him, Will stood again, just as the light went on. Will dipped his head slightly.

“Goodbye, Hannibal,” Will said, just like he said the first time, just like he said every time. Hannibal’s hand twitched up, but Will ignored it. He hesitated, then, “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime, Will, and I mean that,” Hannibal answered. Will stared at him, and Hannibal stared back. Will suddenly, fervently, wished for an end. Hannibal wished for a beginning. Neither of them would receive it. “Anytime.”

Will paused, as if to reply, then thought better of it and turned away. He left the room in silence, passing by the guard with barely a farewell, handing over his plastic glasses and slipping out of his shoes. He left in a hurry, sliding back into the passenger seat of Molly’s truck.

“How’d it go?” Molly asked. Willy made a cooing sound from the backseat at the sounds of Will entering the truck and Molly’s voice. Will buckled himself in and glanced at his own reflection in the passenger side mirror.

“It went,” Will answered. Molly pat his hand where it rested on his thigh before starting the car. Will watched the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane fade into the distance like a lady watching her lover’s train disappear. Will exhaled.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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